


Thirteen Thirteens

by inkyfishes



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyfishes/pseuds/inkyfishes
Summary: After Black Wing - and before Dirk Gently - there were a lot of cold nights.





	Thirteen Thirteens

**Author's Note:**

> For my Secret Santee on Tumblr @chocolatedazecreation - I am so sorry this is late and I hope it's okay although it's only small :3
> 
> Merry Christmas all and a Happy New Year!

It's cold. _Real_ cold. The dumpster she's lying in is a freezer of frosted green plastic. The garbage under her back is covered in a frozen coating - solid, like ice - and the cold leaks through the thin fabric of her dark green coat like steam.

The buildings in this place are close together, stacked like upright chunks of lacquer-darkened wood and just as featureless. Above, the sky is oil black, speckled with those lights which are like the moon but not as big.

There are too many lights for Bart to count in one go. She tries but gets to thirteen and forgets how the rest goes. She counts another thirteen. Then, another. And another. And another again and again until there are thirteen thirteens in her head and the feeling of ice in her hair is just so very slightly further from her mind than it was before.

But it's still cold. And it's - it's not nice. It's not painful, exactly. She doesn't get pain. That's too much like sick, and she doesn't get sick. She _can't_ get sick. That's what they said in the place before, the boring place where they kept her so far away from everyone, when everyone was taller than her and her memories would stick more than they do now.

She didn't know she could do whatever the universe wanted then. She didn't know she could leave at any time.

They didn't tell her. They didn't tell her _loads_.

Bart doesn't think about that place much, the boring place, but even though it was boring it was at least always warmer than it is here.

She's been moving a lot recently, and it's never warm. She likes cars and likes roads to towns she likes and there are sometimes places warmer to sleep, but then she gets that _weird feeling_ about the people she has to kill and likes a nearby gun or baseball bat or traffic cone and then - well, what happens happens. She's a leaf on the stream of creation. Whoever's gotta be killed gotta be killed, and then she has to move on.

If only the universe offered a bit of not-cold-time. It's not like Bart wants much. She doesn't want anything, really. It's just boring, a lot. And cold.

(And maybe the cold isn't all coming from the air around her. There's some of it, like, _in_ her. In the hard bit under her chest, the thing that shatters into white shards if you slam it with a tire iron. It's not hurting - she can't be hurt - but it's weird. Bad weird.

She doesn't want to think about that.)

The dumpster she's cuddled in is below a large, wrought-iron fire escape which zig-zags up the apartment building. A few of the apartments have windows that are open, billowing steam into the twelve-twelve star sky.

She can hear music. It's all tinkly, like someone's dragging a stick against a gate. She likes it.

'You alright, ma'am?'

Bart lifts her head from where it's been resting on the trash, looks over the side of the dumpster.

Official. Uniform. Cop. Dark hair, brown eyes. Blue clothes. One of those long sticks which has a glowy light at one end. Gun around his belt.

Bart doesn't get that feeling from him, which is strange. She doesn't even like his gun. Why'd the universe bring her here to meet him if it's not to kill him?

'Yeah,' Bart answers, gruffly. Her throat hurts. She hasn't spoken a word in over a week and her voice feels strange in her mouth.

She squints as the cop puts his light stick in her face. The cop seems to notice and drops it to her neck instead.

'It's a really cold night,' the cop says, as if there isn't frost all over Bart's coat and the weird ice in her chest. 'Are you a runaway? How old are you? Do you need - uh - directions? To a shelter or somethin'?'

'Nah, I don’t need none of those,' Bart says. She doesn’t actually know what a "shelter" is, but she doesn’t feel like she wants one. The universe has to let her know what to pick, not some random dark-hair-brown-eyes.

'It's not great to be out here alone.'

'Nah.'

'Nah?'

'Nah.'

Bart stares at the man as he stares at her, gaze held taut like a rope between them. She kinda wants to drop it suddenly, see if that would make the cop fall over, but the cop looks away before she can.

Bart scowls. This guy isn't fun. If she isn't supposed to kill him - or if he isn't supposed to give her something to kill someone else with - what's the point of him?

She rolls over on the garbage, bringing her arms closer to her stomach, and puts her hand over her mouth. She's found there's a little heat in the air she breathes out. It warms her hands, although it makes them wet. But she'll deal. She's a leaf on the stream of creation. But a cold one. A frozen one. A -

Something lands on her. Soft and large. _Warm_. She thinks it’s an animal - a flat one - and clutches at it, but it smells not-animal. Smells clean.

She grabs it, pulls it to her eyes. A coat. A cop coat. A big warm one, with a thick inner lining.

'I'll be back 'round here in three hours. If you’re still here…' the cop trails off, authority ebbing. 'Anyway, yeah. I want that coat back. Keep warm, alright?'

Bart holds it, waits for a few moments, until the cop's footsteps have echoed away.

She investigates all the pockets. No knives. No food. No screwdrivers. No keys. No photographs. Nothing, nothing but… warm?

She wraps it around herself. She'll work out what it means in the morning. For now, the chill of the night ebbs away with her consciousness and the sparkling twelve-twelve stars above.

*

_**Requisition Order:** 1 x 4-in-1 Patrol Jacket (Black) M_

_**Reason:** Damaged/Lost_

_**Requester:** Patrol Officer N. Estevez 4242 Unit B641D  
_


End file.
